Class 9
by HarumiCloud
Summary: Humans seem so blind sometimes, not knowing what is under their noses, maybe they refuse to believe in it, but it's there. This story is about a single girl that has to protect a world that refuses to believe that she, and others like her, do not exist.


I remember when it all was just memories, small pigments of nothing but dreams. Foggy dreams that would overcome me. When I was little, I would wake up, screaming, because to dreams hurt so badly. I didn't know that it all would hurt this bad, I didn't have a clue. I guess I just wished it all to be better.

I remember how easily I could control my emotions, locking them up so they wouldn't get out. This is how I got use to the dreams... the scary dreams of reality. How did it come to this?

Pain, a horrible fire of pain ate away at my finger tips, the tips of my stretched out wings felt like someone was taking chunks of my skin off, a little at a time, breaking every bone that they pass, ripping out the flesh, and while they are doing all of this, they are burning me. Yet, I am alive. My vision is foggy, like in my dreams where it feels all too real, but what I see is a boy, maybe about as old as I am, maybe older.

He has short, choppy golden hair, his eyes a sea of gold. His skin was kissed by the sun. Everything about him seemed friendly, open, but he wasn't. Right now, I can't focus on what I am seeing; I just know that everyone beside me is probably gone. This pain is horrible... but it isn't as bad as the pain inside my heart. The pain that was cause by them...

This must be what they mean, when their life passes before their eyes before they are dead. I closed my eyes, still feeling the fiery pain, eating me away, surely, when it reached my heart, I would die. I can't remember my life before I was six, no one would tell me about it. The dreams, they came over me again. The dreams that were so close to reality, but couldn't be true. The dreams I had about my life before I was six.

It's weird, I dream of myself playing, by the adoption center. My dress had seemed so clean and crisp, I wanted to dirty it, and so I could get a new one, hopefully a color I liked. I wore a locket then, one that wrapped around my tan neck; I was born that way, always tan, but not too dark, nor too light. My white hair was too short then, to pull back in a pony tail. My hair was short little white spikes that moved in the small wind. The warm sun was covered up by rain clouds, the mud underneath my boots was slippery and perfect for messing up a dress.

Squishy steps formed in front of me, coming fast, a breath that was short and quick. I didn't even have time to look up before a solid figure rammed into me. He sounded surprised, falling to the ground with me, splattering me in mud. When I opened my wide orange eyes, the boy was on top of me, panting.

He uttered words, 'Sorry..! Sorry!' He yelled, trying to get up. Another figure stood, not too far away. Another boy, with golden hair, he watched us with mean eyes. I stood, frightened, cold, and wet. The boy told me to run, so I did, I ran with the boy, but I kept slipping, falling. He always helped me up, and we kept running. Finally, the ground grew dry, and long golden seas of grass tickled our legs. We ran for a long time, my throat dry I sobbed, following the boy.

The pain now was halfway up my legs, and my arms, tears came from my eyes, but I could hardly feel them come down my face, the dream came back to me. Our hands were interlaced, as he pulled me forward, his eyes wide and frightened. A house came into view, and a mother peaked out, she gasped, running forward to her child. Her stomach was round, another child but be sleeping inside, waiting to come out. She begged to know what happened, I sobbed and the boy told her everything. Suddenly, warm arms wrapped around me.

I was a child; I was raised in adoption centers, always moving. No one wanted to adopt a child with white hair and orange eyes, it was too weird. Yet this mother hugged me, the battered small child, with no one who loved her. I started sobbing for a different reason, tears coming faster than my own heartbeat. My lungs ached and my throat was scorched dry. She exchanged some words with me; I nodded, following the mother in their one story house. It was homey, like a cottage, yet it was large with glass windows everywhere. She brought me somewhere, a bathroom, and handed me shorts and a t-shirt. After a bath, I was changed and clean. My white spikes didn't hold mud anymore. The mother never mentioned anything about my white wings, she never even glanced at them a second time.

By now, my whole arms are burning, and so are my legs, my wings are completely flamed with the pain. I had dreamed things moved by her hands, if she needed them. She could make them move by a swish of her hand, I watched her curiously as she cleaned the bathroom, and did the laundry. She gave me milk, and a bottle of water, ushering me to the couch. I sat down, tiredness coming over me, but I reached forward, grabbing the milk. When the sweet mixture reached my tongue, I found it was warm. I gulped down the whole thing within a few moments and fell asleep.

As I was sleeping, I heard voices, talking about me. The voices were ones of a little boy's voice, then a man's voice, talking to the pregnant mother. When I woke up, the smells of dinner came in. The man looked at me, I could feel the fingers of his mind overcoming me, and searching my memories. I was a child; I didn't know how to block him out.

"She is a foster child," The father smiled sadly, looking at both the mother and the son. The mother smiled softly, and she offered for me to stay till they can bring me back. I wanted to stay, with a mother who held open arms to me. I nodded, smiling softly, I brought my hand up, my stomach turning to stone, and my locket was gone.

I started sobbing, the father was the only one who understood, he explained to the mother, and she padded my back, saying that they would try and find it for me. They brought me to the couch again, the night sky taking over daylight. She put a blanket on me, I had some more warm milk. I fell asleep quickly; my eyes puffy from crying, my legs hurt, sleep seemed so peaceful.

The rest of the dreams follow by weeks passing by, and I was getting more accustomed to the family. I loved every one of them, but I loved the little boy more. It was my first crush, though I didn't know that back then. We played together a lot, yet the mother never made me his sister, she could tell what feelings I had for him, I guess the father had told her.

I could tell months had passed, I had told them it was my fifth birthday in a week. They gasped, the boy grinned. He was a year older than me. A week passed, and the party was wonderful. They gave me my own room, books to read, but there was another present none of them planned. A large orange egg was by my bed when I woke up. I freaked out, but they told me that it was my 'partner'. The dream then was put into fast forward, a year had passed, and it was time for my sixth birthday.

Everyone was cheerful, smiling; I was ready for my presents, unaware of what they could give me. While the boy and I were playing, something passed over us, as I looked up, it was the golden haired boy that caused us to run, darkness surrounded him and he smiled at me with a cruel smile.

_ Get down!_ There was a scream in my head, I was forced to obey, the boy I loved was beside me, crying loudly. _Stay!_ I then, somehow, understood what was going to happen. When I looked up, they were standing by the window, the mother with a baby in her arms, the father wrapping his arms around her. They looked at as, smiling softly, like everything was going to be alright, but the mother was crying, and the father was straining not to give into the tears.

There was a large explosion, caused inside the house, debris was showered around us. The force that was compelling me down vanished, and when I looked up, the golden haired boy was looking at me, with his cruel smile. He dropped the locket, my locket, into my hands, and walked off. My first crush cried out, running forward, but the house was now in flames, nothing remained. Then it stops my dream. I use to wake up screaming, crying out. But I have gotten use to it; I have it every time I dream.

I have no locket, to prove the dream was true; I have no scars, nothing of possession to prove it true. Nothing but that orange egg, the egg had cracked into a baby dragon. When he was hiding from others, he is a small orange baby dragon with silver eyes and small wings. He has a white underbelly and the web of his wings was white, but, when he isn't hiding, he is a large, young-adult dragon with the same markings from when he is in his other form. In this form, he is taller than me, but he rarely takes this form.

He can transform into any animal, he likes to take a form of a mouse so he can come with me to places, dragons aren't normal to see. Though, this became difficult when my foster parents came. I could tell I was different from other people; I was the only child with white hair and orange eyes. I was the only one with wings tucked in under my shirt; I was the only one with a dragon at my side. I was the only one who could transform into a hawk.

When my wings are white, at the end of my feathers they are black and dark chocolate, I looked the same as a hawk, but I was larger than most hawks. I am even smaller than most humans, as a child I barely was taller than three feet tall when most kids were already passing four feet. I don't know what my foster parents saw in me, but they wanted me.

Their names are George and Liana White. They home-schooled me all my life, they must of been able to tell I was different. I never showed them my wings, or Jake, my dragon. I always stayed in my room, away from them, though me life passed by and a new chapter was about to begin, right on my fourteenth birthday. By now the pain was almost to my heart, I opened my eyes once more, on the golden haired boy that fed the darkness that engulfed me. I was going to die... I was going to die now...

I closed my eyes once more... and let my memories over come me.


End file.
